


And so the stone cast their path

by Menfinske



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Bathtub, Count Athos, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Size Kink, Strong Friendship - Freeform, mental bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:06:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2305832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menfinske/pseuds/Menfinske
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a particularly boring night, one would not expect anything to happen. certainly not finding an object that will change your life. Or an object that can make one friendship even closer while evolving another friendship into lovers. </p><p>Also, I apologize for the fact that I misspelled d'Artagnan as d'Artagnon.. Unfortunately, I'm too far in to change it now D:</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the year 1654 nobody had much say in Paris, aside from the king, the queen and the cardinal themselves. Athos and d’Artagnon were in the musketeer’s garrison, and knew this from experience. That’s how they ended up having to do the night guard outside the city gates. There were woods very near the east entrance of the city and everybody hated this duty for that specific reason.   
“You know, it wouldn’t be half as bad if Aramis and Porthos hadn’t been sick,” d’Artagnon complains as he startles awake upon almost falling off his horse. Athos smiles at this before replying.   
“Better hope we don’t catch it as well, what with how many of the musketeer’s being ill,” d’Artagnon nods.   
“That’s true,” he admits. “But it sure is boring out here,” he still complains and Athos shakes his head with a smile still present on his face. The young Gascon boy apparently had been what he needed to take his mind of the past, and proved to crawl into his heart much faster than Athos had anticipated. They both turn around upon hearing a crash and seeing a slight waver in the air where the crash must’ve happened.   
“Seems like boring is over,” Athos raises his brow before urging his horse forward to the site. D’Artagnon follows closely, their horses running as fast as they can. Before they reach the site, both of them feel something is off. The horses seem to feel it too, for they don’t slow down when urged to, pulled forward by the same magnetic pull the men are feeling.   
“I’m not sure I’m liking this more, to be honest,” d’Artagnon says as the pull is becoming unbearable. The horses finally halt when the pull is at its strongest and they both get off. Before them is.. well, rather much of nothing really. A stone, slightly bigger than Athos’ own fist. But it sure as hell seems to be the source of the pull.   
“What is it?” Athos asks, bending down to pick it up. It sure is heavier than it seems though, and the touch is enough to have Athos falling to his knees.   
“Athos, are you alright?” D’Artagnon asks the man, resting his hand upon his shoulder to keep him from falling back.   
“Yes, it didn’t hurt. Actually, it felt really good,” d’Artagnon raises his brow in disbelief before looking at it and, after a moment of hesitation, touches it as well. He’s already on his knees, to his fortune, because now he knows what Athos means.   
“That’s.. it’s amazing,” he manages after a moment of silence. “What could it be?”  
“I don’t know,” Athos is aware they’re both sneaking closer to the object. The pull is just so intense, he can barely stand it. He needs to touch it again. He can tell by the pained look on d’Artagnon’s face he’s feeling the same compulsion. On an impulse, he takes the other’s hand and places both their hands in contact with the stone. This time, knowing what to expect, they manage to hold on to both each other and the stone for a while. It’s intense. The stone seems to be coursing through his veins, however that might be possible, and it doesn’t stop there, it goes into d’Artagnon’s veins as well, connecting the two of them deeper than Athos had ever imagined possible. In that moment, d’Artagnon’s body was his and his body was d’Artagnon’s as well, and their minds bled into each other. Again, it becomes too much and they have to retract, and while both of them pant slightly in the damp woods, Athos becomes aware of a voice in his mind that is not his, but so undeniably recognizable he has no doubt it’s d’Artagnon. After a few quiet moments of looking at each other and making sure the other is silent, Athos raises his brow.   
“You can hear me as well,” it’s not a question, but d’Artagnon still nods. The stone must not have fully restored the boundaries between their minds, letting it still be an open connection, all-be-it not as strong as it was when touching the stone. Athos is quite surprised he’s not too bothered by it. Neither is d’Artagnon, it appears, though they are both still somewhat shocked.   
“I believe it’s better if we make sure nobody finds this rock,” he says quietly. The horses have come closer to the stone as the men were thinking about it all, and now Athos’ own horse touches it with his muzzle. Athos hears d’Artagnon thinking about what it’d be like to know what his horse thinks too, and looks at Athos for support. The latter simply shrugs, not knowing if that could ever be possible with two beings with such different communication systems. D’Artagnon shrugs and, as Athos suspected, decided to try anyway, so when his horse touches the stone with his muzzle as well, d’Artagnon quickly places his hand on top of both. Through d’Artagnon’s mind he can feel the horse’s strong body, his nerves at something so strange, his sense of comfort with the younger musketeer. When d’Artagnon let’s go, the connection is still there, much like their own. D’Artagnon smiles happily, petting the horse who’s now contently lying next to the man.   
“You should try it too,” he insists. Athos doesn’t protest, it would be very convenient to have his own horse which he could understand better than anything or anyone. Except for maybe d’Artagnon with their new bond. Shrugging, Athos takes his horse’s hoof and lets it direct him to the stone, before the whole carnival begins anew. His own horse is feeling practically the same as d’Artagnon’s was, though he’s considerably more curious than nervous about the unknown object. When he lets go, the horse remains a part of his mind as well, and when it goes to lie down as well, Athos doesn’t hesitate to let it rest it’s head on his lap. He strokes the animal somewhat absentmindedly while it gives off strong feelings of contentment.   
“I believe you are right. We should tell the Treville about it, though, he might have information about what it is and how to hide it, considering it’s pull,” d’Artagnon nods.   
“Yeah, we’ll go see him once the sun rises,” he agrees, before leaning against his horse and shutting his eyes. Athos is content to lie back and watch the moon make its circle round the earth, being swallowed up by the sun. He’s not tired, after the past dozen years of drinking uncontrollably almost, he can no longer sleep without the help of the liquor. 

When they rise in the morning, they both look at the stone, knowing that they should hide it somehow. Athos shrugs and decides to try and pick it up once more, though he has little hope. His hand closes around the stone and his whole body lights with fire again, but this time he doesn’t let it distract him. He picks up the object, which he suddenly finds very easy and raises a suspicious brow. He shrugs it off and hides it in a squirrel’s hide-out, which he covers with leaves and needles from the floor. When he turns around, the horses are just getting up, now no longer having to be told what to do with the direct link to their minds.   
“This doesn’t mean you’re going to talk even less though, is it?” d’Artagnon asks when he mounts his horse. Athos follows in quick succession and the horses start running without needing any stimulation. Athos quirks his lips up and looks amused.   
“I doubt Aramis and Porthos would appreciate it,” he points out.   
“Right. Do you think they’re still sick?” Athos finally notices what’s been bothering him since the horses started running. They’re running muck faster than usual. D’Artagnon then notices too, and the horses slow down automatically.   
“I think we’d better take care of the problem at hand first. I’m starting to doubt more and more if we want such a stone falling into the wrong hands,” d’Artagnon nods and they stroll through the city gates mere seconds after, slowing their horses to a walk instead and shutting up about it lest someone hear about it. They don’t talk again until Athos mounts off, pets his horse affectionately and let d’Artagnon feed them before they have to head out again. Athos makes no story of it, just tells the story quick and the captain’s face darkens.  
“I have heard stories about this stone. The cardinal told them to his guard’s about a week ago. It was supposed to be made by an alchemist, who had a deal with the cardinal. In return for the power to throw the queen of her position, he’d be granted all the fortune he’d wish for. I never believed it could be real, power in a package, how can that be possible, but if what you say is true, then this must be what he meant. You have to hide it, and quickly, before the cardinal or any of the guard’s find it.”  
“I will. D’Artagnon and I are on it, sir,” he nods his head but doesn’t leave yet, “but what about us?”  
“What about you?”   
“The power of the stone. What will it do to us?”   
“You’ll have to find out yourselves, I’m afraid. But make sure nobody else has to find out,” Treville urges him out the door and he’s back to d’Artagnon and the horses in an instant. He doesn’t have to repeat what he’s heard, because d’Artagnon is on the subject as soon as Paris’ gates are behind them again. Their horses start running again, and d’Artagnon opens his mouth.   
“We could try to destroy it,” Athos thinks about it.   
“We could, but we have to face that there might be a very real possibility of the stone being indestructible,” he points out.   
“Then we hide it, far away from Paris.”  
“You should know, as the one not being from Paris itself, there’s villages surrounding the woods.”  
“Right, it’s pull is certain to draw villagers. Then we…”  
“We might be able to bury it.”  
“Bury it? Where, we felt the pull about a mile off.”  
“Yes, I didn’t say it would be superficial dig,” Athos looks at the other musketeer, understanding slipping over his face.   
“Athos, we don’t even know if this stone has given us any power, I don’t know about you, but I have enough difficulty to dig a simple whole,” Athos shrugs.  
“We’ll find out soon enough then, won’t we,” he points out before they reach their destination. Fortunately nobody seems to have located the stone and d’Artagnon takes it out and looks at it with this new piece of information in mind.   
“It doesn’t look like much though,” he says, before putting the stone on the ground. Almost immediately the horses bathe in its effect, and unfortunately the musketeers can’t say they’re resisting much better. Eventually they decide to start digging right next to it, because that seems to be the only way now.   
As they shovel layer after layer of dirt away, it becomes clear that the stone definitely gives them at the very least extra strength. Even though exhaustion weighs on them, each time the shovel hits the dirt is easier, the pull lighter, the dirt removed more.   
“You know, if not so dangerous, this would be amazing,” d’Artagnon finally voices what he’s been thinking all along. Athos takes this as a sign to take a break and leans on his shovel.   
“It still is,” he points out.  
“Come on, let’s eat and drink some,” he says and looks up. Athos follows his gaze and meets what is a very high wall of dirt. D’Artagnon looks scared, as if afraid he’s never getting out of here. Athos however simply reasons that if the muscles in his arms have become stronger, the muscles in his legs must also and jumps as high as he can. He makes it easily and smiles down at the other man.   
“It looks higher than it is,” he says before turning around and taking the food out of the horse’s bag. He takes out enough for the four of them and his horse happily lies his head in lap again while Athos feeds him his share.   
“That wasn’t funny, you know. What if we hadn’t been able to jump that high?”   
“Then we wouldn’t have been able to dig that low. Besides, there were two of us down there. I’m sure we could climb out no matter what,” Athos replies between bites. D’Artagnon still doesn’t look pleased but eventually settles down and accepts the bread, feeding some to his own horse. Athos can’t help but feel very amused and d’Artagnon scowls at him.   
“What?” Athos shakes his head and puts on an innocent face.   
“What’s the matter?”  
“What’s with you being so amused?”  
“Can’t a guy just be happy once in a while?” he pretends to sound indignant about it, but his mind betrays him of course.  
“So what if I’m not fond of being trapped. Who is?”   
“Well, not me, that’s for sure,” Athos winks before finishing his bread and petting his horse.   
“Exactly,” d’Artagnon doesn’t have to look up to know Athos’ amusement hasn’t died down, but he decided to ignore it. That point alerted the two men to a presence, just outside their little circle. Athos gets up and searches the tree, mentally telling d’Artagnon to guard the stone. He’s found the intruder soon enough, though it appears their senses are getting better too. Aramis had been quite a distance away when they heard the noise.   
“Athos, I was looking for you guys,” he says happily, throwing his arms around the other man. “What’s this strange feeling though? I got it when I was walking by, it pulled me straight here. And then I find you,” he follows obediently while Athos leads them back to d’Artagnon.   
“I guess you’ll find out soon enough,” Athos replies, making sure to walk at Aramis’ pace instead of his own now-faster one. They reach d’Artagnon soon enough and the young musketeer doesn’t turn around at first, busy with a different threat. Athos had missed that, being too absorbed in what Aramis was telling him about how Treville had been acting all mysterious. He quickly is alert now though and listens and looks for anything out of the ordinary. His eyes finally spot a squirrel and he puts his hand on d’Artagnon so he’ll finally look around.   
Upon turning around they find that Aramis had been as quick as them about wanting to touch the mysterious stone and his face changes as he draws the conclusion.   
“This is what gave off that feeling. What Treville was being so evasive about,” he says. Athos simply nods. D’Artagnon looks slightly worried, afraid Aramis would think badly of them for not sharing their discovery with their other two friends. Aramis only smiles though. “What is it?”  
“We’re not entirely sure yet. Something that can’t be left lying around though,” Athos grabs a shovel and hands it to d’Artagnon, urging him to keep on digging. He’s too nervous about Aramis being here to do much good aside from that.   
“Why not? I mean, it didn’t do anything when I touched it,” he protests while d’Artagnon, less than happy about having to, jumps into the hole.   
“It did, you simply haven’t noticed yet,” Aramis frowns and Athos sighs, taking his friend’s hand and holding it while picking up the rock and bringing them to their linked hands. Experiencing it for the third time in not even 24 hours, Athos isn’t very shocked to feel his Aramis’ body like it’s his own, about being one with his mind or with the feelings that wash over him. He retreats the rock quickly though, for Aramis’ sake. He wildly thinks about what just happened, what the rock could do and whatever until he finally seems to notice Athos’ voice now inside his head.   
“What?” he asks, not yet having noticing Athos wasn’t speaking.  
“I didn’t say anything,” Athos raises his brows, letting Aramis discover himself.   
“Yes you did,” he says, confused as to why he’s looking at Athos and sees his lips aren’t moving, yet he hears the man’s voice clearly. Then he listen to what the voice is saying and his mouth drops open. “You’re in my head,” he says quietly. Athos doesn’t reply. “How is that possible?” Aramis finally continues after a long silence.   
“Not a clue,” he eventually replies, watching intently as Aramis sinks to the ground.   
“Am I in your head too?” Athos nods. “So we can hear each other’s thoughts now,” Athos cocks his head. He’d never figured Aramis would be the one having trouble accepting this, he himself being the more conservative guy. Aramis scowls. “You weren’t brought up in a monastery,” he defends himself.   
“Doesn’t keep you from appreciating the women,” Athos brings in.   
“Oh well, I’m still a man after all. So this stone, does it do anything else? Or just linking our minds?”   
“It appears to give power to those around it,” Aramis looks at himself, then at Athos, then at the hole which hides d’Artagnon.   
“So, by simply being here I’m getting stronger?” Athos nods. “And that’s why you’re.. what exactly are you doing?” Athos quirks a quick smile and leans down to site on a tree trunk.   
“Oh yeah sure, you two keep talking cosily over there while I work my ass off,” d’Artagnon calls and Aramis grins. Athos ignores him verbally, but his amusement must’ve made his way to the other, because he snorts indignantly.   
“We’re hiding it. Apparently, it’s meant for the cardinal.”  
“But how did you know it would be here? Did Treville order you to find it?”   
“Not exactly. He ordered us to stand guard at the east gate, and we heard a crash and found this stone to be the cause of it. We discovered part of what it could do that same night and when we returned home, the horses had suddenly become faster. We told Treville and he ordered us to hide the stone so nobody would find it.”  
“Nobody including me,” Aramis smiles a bit, not blaming them in the least but stating why he hadn’t been invited on the mission. Athos nods. “I guess I better go inform Treville to tell Porthos another story, before he dwells here as well,” Aramis gets up, but finds himself having difficulty to move away from the precious object. Athos notices. He himself is having even more trouble just thinking about it. Aramis notices that too. “Quickly, before I’m actually stuck here,” he says. Athos nods to the horses.   
“You’ll be quicker riding. You can come back when you’ve told him,” Athos walks over to his own horse, patting its snout while Aramis looks at the horse in wonder.   
“Okay, don’t get me wrong, it’s always been a mighty horse you have there, but I sure as hell remember it being a lot smaller. How the hell am I going to get up there,” Aramis complains. Athos frowns and looks at the horse, only now noticing the difference. It was over a feet higher in the air than before, by rough estimation, and the rest had grown proportionately. He only now looks at himself in comparison to Aramis, and sees he’s actually grown too. Not as much as the horse, but he used to be only slightly taller than the other man, while he now reaches his chin.   
“I’ll help you,” he says before Aramis can comment and he links his hands for Aramis to put his foot on. Aramis hesitates, but then remains silent anyway.   
“Do I have to tell Treville anything else?” Athos knows he means if he should tell their boss about the changes in him and he shakes his head.  
“And you don’t have to urge the horse either, it knows where to drop you off and to return,” Athos says, turning back to help d’Artagnon before Aramis changes his mind about his silence. His horse, obedient now only to him and not Aramis, immediately takes off while he can hear Aramis’ mind thinking otherwise.   
“I had no idea the changes were that intense,” d’Artagnon is standing by the still not entirely dead fire and looks at him. Athos says nothing, but sits down. He needs to process. Maybe he hadn’t coped as well with it as he’d thought, and he only now begins to realize what’s happening. But he can’t break down, not with the two men listening in on his thoughts, however unconsciously done. He puts it off again and meets d’Artagnon’s worried glance. The farm boy didn’t appear to have any trouble with it, though he seems to be worried if it was morally right for them to remain in the stone’s proximity while knowing it’s effects.   
Athos grabs the shovel and jumps in the hole, if only to get away from d’Artagnon’s view, because he can’t bring himself to start digging yet. In all senses, what they were doing wasn’t wrong. The only thing that bothered Athos in the slightest about it all was not being able to tell Porthos. But he suspects that doesn’t matter, he’s been in the spotlight badly once before, and he knows that if word gets out about this, he will be again. This time with his friends, but even then, he remembers how badly it hurt then.   
“Athos,” it’s not just his friend’s mental voice then and he forces himself to look up. “You can trust us, you know,” d’Artagnon is visibly as well as mentally keeping himself in check not to hug the man or anything. Like it would scare him off. Fact is, it probably would, Athos thinks sadly.   
“I know,” he eventually answers after a long silence. “It’s just not something I like talking about.”  
“I understand,” he nods and shovels away as if nothing happened. Something did though. Athos realizes he’ll never be alone in his head again. Two people and a horse shared that space with him now. He startles when he notices the horse is already at the base and is eating hay happily because nobody seems to want to stop a huge hungry horse. He can’t help but be slightly amused at how his fellow musketeers look at his horse and wonder how such a large horse had gone unnoticed before. Athos knows he should order his horse to stop eating, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead he starts to shovel as well. About twenty minutes have passed before he hears hooves. D’Artagnon tenses at first but then relaxes when Athos’ brain tells him it’s Aramis. They climb out of the hole and look at their friend.  
“Porthos won’t be looking for us. Not here at least,” Aramis grins. He’s been given the wrong information and won’t be heading east for quite a while. Athos sits down on the trunk again and Aramis comes to sit next to him while d’Artagnon searches for place to pee in private. Aramis leans close against him. He knows better than to protest or flee, Aramis would pay no mind to it anyway. Aramis grins in victory.  
“Your mind smiles more than your face, you know that,” d’Artagnon laughs as he gets back. Athos doesn’t respond, but Aramis is laughing all right. “Like now, I can feel your amusement, Athos, no need to hide that smile,” Athos rolls his eyes but his lips quirk up anyway.   
“What about we rest for the night. We can continue this in the morning, the east gate has been closed anyway so as not to have people lingering around,” Aramis says, nearly squinting. Athos only now realizes, with a start, that it’s dark already. His eyes have definitely improved a lot. Then he focuses nods and d’Artagnon sits down, stretching his tired muscles.   
“What about the stone? Should someone keep it on him in case someone manages to get here without waking us?” Athos stares at the thing that holds so much power over him and almost drools over the idea he gets to sleep with it. He’s relieved when he discovers the other two have the same stream of thoughts.   
“Better not,” they say at the same time. So they hide it under some leaves and needles and start collecting firewood. Soon enough they have a neat pile, though it probably won’t last more than an hour, and decide to accept the rain’s victory because all other wood they find is wet. Aramis looks in the bags for a lighter while Athos’ nose itches. He finally sneezes just as d’Artagnon gets up to help Aramis look and both men look back startled. Not only air escaped in his sneeze, there was fire as well, now lighting the pile very well. Athos only sighs.  
“Great, another thing,” he mumbles before the men sit back down. They wisely decide not to comment on it, and roasts their dinner on the burning ember. They eat in comfortable silence and Aramis puts his head in his lap to sleep. Athos looks at the other man, who mischievously smiles before closing his eyes. D’Artagnon falls asleep soon after, his mental voice falling silent as dreams catch him.   
“You’re in his mind too,” it’s not a question, so he doesn’t reply. “You love him,” he whispers then. It still isn’t a question, but this time Athos replies because he feels his friend’s hurt.   
“I love you too, you know,” he says, and lets Aramis dig into his brain to confirm he isn’t lying.   
“Then why have you never acted on it? You know I like the company of men as much as that of women,” Aramis asks. Athos thinks back to the time he was married, and though he doesn’t voice any of it, Aramis follows his stream of thoughts intently.   
“I can’t,” he eventually finishes.   
“I’m not her, you know. Love doesn’t have to destroy you,” Aramis doesn’t press it though, instead kisses Athos’ lips once before laying down and falling to sleep as well. The voices in his head now all silent, Athos looks up at the sky, lit with stars now so much better visible than they used to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dividing a story in chapters is possibly my weakest suit in writing at all, so yeah.. sorry '^.^

To his surprise, Athos actually did fall asleep that night, and he wakes up when Aramis’ comforting weight leaves his lap. He opens his eyes slowly, for once without a hangover and looks at the other man. D’Artagnon is up already too, taking his stuff and putting it back in the bag. The horses are still asleep, and they leave them be. D’Artagnon picks up the stone and hands it to Athos, who frowns in confusion. Then he takes it and frowns more. It doesn’t feel like anything anymore, just a normal rock. The pull is gone as well. Aramis looks at him even more confused.  
“No, it’s not. I can still feel it,” he says, picking up the rock and feeling the strange sensation again. Athos considers this strange fact for a bit, but it’s d’Artagnon who comes up with the most sensible theory.  
“Maybe it’s done its work on us. I mean, it can hardly give unlimited power, right. Aramis got exposed later, so he still has benefit from it,” he reasons. Athos nods, that sounds plausible.   
“Let’s continue digging then, before we won’t even know how deep to dig,” Aramis says, jumping in. Athos follows him and soon they’re all digging again. 

Late that afternoon, when Aramis too no longer feels the pull, they have to guess this is deep enough. They throw the stone in and quickly pour the sand back over. That’s much easier than getting it out, and half an hour later they’re done.   
“We can probably make it back before dinner,” Aramis jokes.   
“Let’s go then,” d’Artagnon says and they walk over to the horses. Two horses, three men. They hesitate before Aramis turns around.   
“You know what I only now think of. I could’ve had my own horse like this too, no instead I only now come up with the idea,” he says it laughing though, and Athos has no problem knowing he doesn’t really mean it. It would be convenient and that’s it. Aramis doesn’t get upset over something so easily, and Athos climbs on his horse and gives Aramis a hand to help him on the back. His horse is now large and strong enough to carry five adult men, and they didn’t grow so much that five men would be smaller and lighter than they.   
They ride back in no time, and Athos can’t help but marvel at how fast their horses are, not even exerting themselves. Even Aramis is silenced by it, which is rare. That earns Athos a scowl though, and he smiles just a bit. Once at the garrison, he’s happy most musketeers are out on a mission at the moment. Because everyone present is staring at them. D’Artagnon, sitting alone on his horse, is the first one to dismount, and through his eyes Athos can see why. They really do make a magnificent image. His large, bulking horse carrying two large, bulking men. Aramis eventually dismounts too, allowing Athos to do the same. They put their horses with the others before heading out to Treville. Athos is still trying to recover from seeing their horses with the other horses, now seeming so unbelievably small, when Treville lets them in. Athos has to really force himself to keep walking when he passes the man. Athos was never a tall man, he’d always been somewhat ashamed of it, quite a number of women being taller than him, and he’d never even reached the captain’s nose before. Now, Treville reached to just under his chest. Aramis looks at him with an amused smile. D’Artagnon keeps his face straight, but the amusement is no less clear because of it. They hadn’t noticed just how much bigger they’d gotten either. The captain obviously notices and he is clearly in a slight stake of shock. Then he recovers and looks worried.  
“By the looks of you three, I’d say the stone worked rather well,” he states. Athos nods. “Did you make sure nobody can ever find it again?” Athos nods again. “Absolutely sure?”  
“Yes, sir,” Athos finally answers. The captain relaxes a little bit.   
“The cardinal will undoubtedly realize you’ve found his stone. He might even send his men after you, to torture you about its location. Do you think you can handle that?” he feels the other two’s amusement, but feels more serious about this himself. Yes, they are very powerful, but numbers also matter greatly. If the cardinal were to ever get the three of them on their own against his complete guard, they most likely wouldn’t find it so easy to get out.   
“I hope so,” he answers.   
“Good, now get out of here and speak to nobody about this. Including Porthos. Understood?”  
“Yes, sir,” they say in unison before getting out. Porthos has evidently been told they’re back and is fuming at the bottom of the stairs. Aramis taps him on the shoulder and before he’s even fully turned, smiles radiantly at the last of their little group.   
“Holy.. what happened to you?” he asks.   
“Na-ah, Porthos, I’m afraid we’ve got very strict orders never to tell you. Come on, let’s head to my house, I long for a couch after those trunks,” Aramis calls enthusiastically, dragging the others along. D’Artagnon follows enthusiastically, as always, and despite Porthos and Athos’ protest, he drags them along as well. Porthos is eyeing us suspiciously and it makes Athos feel uncomfortable. But he realizes what it must seem like to Porthos. They go off and come back, all three of them altered and refusing to tell him what happened. In all the years of their friendship they’d had no secrets between them, except for those not concerning any of the others. Now though, the three of them were in and he was out. Aramis follows his thoughts with alarm, not having thought of it on his own yet. It makes him feel uncomfortable too, but he tries to ignore it. D’Artagnon shrugs it off, unlike when Aramis showed up.  
They eventually reach Aramis’ home, which is in a fairly bad neighbourhood. Most of the musketeers would never wear their cape there, in fear of being attacked for it, but Aramis didn’t care and, as Athos found out after a while, neither the people as long as they remained undisturbed.   
“What do you say we play a simple, old game of cards?” asks Aramis then, grabbing his pack and looking at his comrades. D’Artagnon sits at the table without a thought and Athos nods his assent. Porthos, still suspicious, eventually gives in as well. Athos waits until the cards are dealt before sitting down. He can hear d’Artagnon wonder why he’s almost always leaning or standing and answers just as silently. He trains his legs this way, making his muscles more durable and his feet tougher. Aramis seems surprised. He’d always assumed it was his way of making him more mysterious. Athos can barely refrain from snorting, it wouldn’t sit well with the company not being able to hear their thoughts. Then he realizes Aramis and d’Artagnon never touched the stone together. That explains why sometimes the other wouldn’t know what caused a certain thought.   
“Who starts?” Athos asks when he realizes nobody has begun yet. Aramis is quick to draw a card, which leaves d’Artagnon a grin.   
“Of course it would be you,” he shakes his head.  
“Nobody else was starting, my dear friend,” Aramis points out. Athos remains silent as always, and Porthos too, for a change. They all notice.   
“Which is surprising, Porthos, last time you complained you never got to start. You had the chance now,” Aramis points out.   
“Maybe I have the perfect cards already in hand,” he drawls.   
“I doubt that.”  
“Mh? And why’s that?”  
“Because, my dear friend, you’ve got a card hidden up your sleeve. You wouldn’t need that with perfect cards, now would you?” Porthos chuckles and gives in, taking the card out of his sleeve.   
“Nearly perfect then,” he amends.   
“Not as perfect as me, I bet,” d’Artagnon raises his brow. He does have very good cards indeed. He mentally scowls at me for peaking and looks at what I myself have. Worthless, even in the worst game. Aramis grins, pretending to grin at d’Artagnon’s comment while laughing at me mentally.   
“You remember when I said nothing was as bad as having you as my friends. I was wrong,” he lets Porthos believe it’s about his cards while mentally adding: it’s having my friends in my head 24/7. They all laugh.   
“This is going to be a game between you two then,” Aramis says, putting his cards down as well.   
“You sure you’re up to it,” d’Artagnon teases. Porthos huffs and draws a card.

At the end of the night, after Porthos leaves for home, accompanied by d’Artagnon to keep him standing after all that wine, Aramis and Athos remain there alone.   
“I think he’s taking it well,” Aramis says, turning away from the window when the two men are no longer in sight. Athos nods. “I wish we didn’t have to lie to him though. And it would be so much easier if he knew we could read each other’s mind,” he says, pushing Athos on a chair.   
“Why didn’t you and d’Artagnon do it?” Aramis shrugs.   
“I didn’t really think about it. I have no trouble with talking, and usually I don’t have a problem with getting people to talk to me. I don’t think it occurred to d’Artagnon either, to be fair. You have difficulties outing yourself, Athos, and I believe that’s why you unconsciously wanted this. Because it doesn’t require you to talk anymore. You can out yourself without putting it to words,” Athos remains silent when he thinks it over.   
“Maybe,” he eventually concedes.   
“Do you want to crash here?”  
“Sure,” he replies.  
“Come on, I’m sure the bed is more comfortable than these chairs,” Aramis smiles and undoes his lace, undressing himself until he’s only in his underpants. Athos follows his example, his eyes unconsciously following Aramis and his movements. He shakes his head though, remembering the men is in his head now, and scowls when he sees Aramis’ bemused stare.  
“I do not see how my subconscious would want this much,” he states dryly. Aramis laughs.   
“I did not know you had a taste for men, my friend,” Athos shrugs. It was something generally kept quiet, the wrong people finding out could very well ruin your life, but being nobility, that need was about a 100 times bigger. Aramis’ surprise shakes him and he looks at the enlarged eyes of his brother before realizing his mistake.   
“You’re nobility?” he asks, rather calmly unlike his turmoil of thoughts at the moment. Athos feels himself blush but he realizes he can hardly deny it now, so he nods.   
“Okay, Athos, want it or not, you obviously have more to hide than I previously thought. You’re going to have to open up sometime. And frankly, now that we’re linked mentally, I say we do it before the wrong thought at the wrong place alerts people that something is wrong,” Athos stares hard into his friend’s eyes, but he knows the man has never meant him any harm, quite the opposite actually, and he does pose a good point.   
“Fine. I’m a count. Or, was a count,” he sighs. “Count de la fere.”  
“How does one go from being a count to being a musketeer?” Aramis doesn’t push, but he realizes that Athos doesn’t know where to begin or even what specifically to tell. That gets the ball rolling though, and Athos prepares his story.  
“I was married. A political marriage, and I hardly even knew the woman I was to marry. I had little choice though, it wasn’t as if I could find a woman that I love, considering that I knew myself to be attracted to men long before I was to be married. So, I married her. It turned out that, despite her family being very influential, she’d been walking the path of a criminal for some time by then. My brother found out about it and confronted her. I walked in as she was trying to kill him. Naturally, my need to protect my brother was larger than the need to defend this woman I hardly knew and certainly didn’t love, and I threw her off him, he told me what happened and I had to see her brought to justice. But, as you’ve so often complained about, nobility are never brought to justice. My words might as well have been to deaf ears, and my brother’s even more so. We could never convince my father she did wrongly. But by then word had already been spread, milady was mistreated by her husband. She didn’t have to worry about nobody believing her. She made the bruises herself, limping without anything being wrong and was a great actress. We had nothing but words, she had her very own body to play us with. Soon, the whole town wanted me brought to justice. Fortunately, that didn’t happen either, but the city was terrorizing us. We couldn’t go anywhere without being confronted. Jean would not give up though and he kept looking for evidence to put her away. I told him it wouldn’t help, she’d already spread her lies, nobody would believe it, even if we had evidence, but he.. he was always so optimistic about things. He eventually found the proof and milady killed him for it. I fled, used my last favours to get into the musketeer’s ranks and started using a new identity,” being finished, Athos looks up at Aramis. He’d felt his friend’s anger and frustration while he explained his story, but his face still strikes him. It’s not angry, it’s sad. Very, very sad.   
“I’m sorry, Athos,” he says after a long while of silence. They’d moved to lay in the bed, and Aramis placed his head on Athos’ shoulder to comfort the man.   
“It’s hardly your fault,” Athos puts his arm around the other, holding him close.   
“I had no idea. I figured a lady was involved, but I had no idea it’d been that complicated,” Aramis draws little figures on his chest absentmindedly.   
“You couldn’t have. Besides, Aramis, I think you’ll find yourself proven wrong,” Aramis’ confusion pools over him and he can’t help a smile. “I do still need to talk. Perhaps even more so,” Aramis laughs as well.   
“I take it back then,” he smiles still. Athos closes his eyes and drifts off to comfortable sleep before anymore conversation can be made.


	3. Chapter 3

“Good morning, Paris,” Aramis announces as Athos finally properly wakes up. They’re both still in bed, not needing to be at the garrison for another hour. D’Artagnon is also asleep, so his mind is silent. It’s really just him, Aramis and spare time. A combination not common lately.   
“Is it?” he asks. Aramis smiles.  
“I would certainly say so. We’ve got about an hours to fill after all,” Aramis happily announced.  
“And how will we fill them?” Athos is about to get up when he’s tackled and kissed by the other man. Athos feels confused and shocked at first, but quickly recovers when he feels his friend’s fear at being rejected. He kisses back happily. “To what do I owe that?” Athos asks after Aramis draws back and out of reach.   
“To my undying love for you, my brother,” he says lightly and, despite being linked, he finds he has no idea how much he means that. He doesn’t try long though, if Aramis wanted it clear he’d have responded to his silent question. “Did d’Artagnon get the story yesterday?” Athos has to admit he wasn’t paying the other man much mind but he thinks anyway.   
“I believe so. I’ll ask after it later,” he promises.   
“Okay, then. God, today is going to be a lousy day.”  
“It surprises me that you have so much disgust for guarding the palace. After all, you seem to be well acquainted with one of its inhabitants,” Aramis looks at him with a half grin.  
“The queen is a special lady. But no, I do not believe it a pleasant job. The king’s an idiot. Even more childish than my little sister. But, he’s born to be the king and therefor he shall be the king. And everyone shall listen to his silly banter. It’s not fair, on the streets, you have to always be the best and beat the best and even then you’re at risk, but nobility just have everything they want thrown their way,” Aramis looks frustrated, then guilty when he remembers their conversation. “Okay, maybe not all of them. Sorry, Athos,” he amends. Athos smiles sadly.   
“Don’t worry about it, Aramis. I did, after all, have a very nice youth and had the musketeer’s job offered easily, unlike the others,” it sounds pathetically fake though, even to his own ears.   
“Having a nice youth doesn’t require nobility upbringing, Athos. Porthos was raised in the court of miracles and he enjoyed it there, for as long as it lasted. I myself was brought up in a monastery, never having met my parents, not much company aside from the nuns and even I was happy. D’Artagnon was a simple farmer and he enjoyed it,” Athos shrugs.   
“Maybe so, don’t keep your opinions to yourself for my sake though. One, it wouldn’t work, considering you’re in here,” he points to his head, “and two, because I’ve heard you complain about it a hundred times already. As well as most of the others,” Aramis smiles just as sadly.  
“Did I hurt you? With my comments? Because I certainly didn’t mean to.”  
“I know you didn’t, Aramis,” he doesn’t reply to the question, but Aramis flinches when he thinks about it however. It certainly did hurt, not just the first few times.   
“Still. I should apologize. I never did ask for your story, because I thought it’d be better for you if you didn’t have to tell, but I see now that I could’ve saved you at least some hurt.”  
“Don’t bother, I wouldn’t have told anyway,” it’s not a lie either. He’d never tell anyone, if circumstances were different. Aramis nods and kisses him once before heading to the bathroom.   
“Do you need to bathe, Athos? The tub’s big enough for two,” Athos smiles and his mental self screams yes before he could even consider saying no. Aramis laughs about it, but fortunately doesn’t comment. Athos gets up and walks over to the bathroom. The reason why Aramis chose these lodgings instead of the ones at the garrison was because these were bigger. And Athos certainly couldn’t protest that. Compared to his lodgings they were big. “But fact is you’re used to bigger?” Aramis stands in front of him with a sad smile. Athos opens his mouth to protest, but shuts it quickly.   
“I can’t appear to shake the habit,” he shrugs.   
“I understand. I was brought up in a monastery, I was used to my space as well. You adjusted better than I did, I would say,” Aramis smiles and leads them to the bath.   
“Aramis, I don’t mean to ruin your mood, but I don’t see how this is big enough for both of us?” Aramis looks, then feels confused, then groans.   
“Right, we’ve grown,” he remembers then and Athos can’t help his amusement.   
“No worries, I’m sure we’ll survive,” he says, then turns to the mirror instead. He can go a day without shaving extra.   
“You know, I do have a razor,” Aramis says, leaning in himself.   
“I’m aware. But I don’t shave everyday anyway,” Aramis looks confused as to how Athos would know this and he points to the razor, on display for everyone to see.  
“Right. Anyway, better get ready,” Aramis seems distracted and Athos shakes his head and dresses. 

Two hours later, they’re at the royal palace, standing guard in pairs. He and Aramis have been put together, as is usual since d’Artagnon joined. D’Artagnon and Porthos were standing nearly straight opposite to them.   
“Did you ask our friend yet?” Aramis asks.   
“Haven’t had the chance,” Athos replies. It’s not even a lie. D’Artagnon had arrived at the garrison late, and they had no chance to speak in private before they were split up and put opposite of each other in a very sizable room indeed. He can almost feel Aramis roll his eyes.  
“You can talk to him in private anywhere, remember. Or.. semi-private at least,” Aramis adds after he realizes he’ll be able to hear it too. Athos sighs.  
“Fine, I’ll ask him,” he mumbles, then focuses his mind on d’Artagnon and the question. The man looks surprised, he’d been about dozing off, and frowns a bit, but answers anyway. “He knows.”  
“Good,” Aramis replies, stifling a yawn. “You know, I can’t help but be amused.”  
“About?”   
“Look at them,” Athos does so, already knowing what Aramis means now. He can’t say the man is wrong either. It does look really amusing. Porthos is usually considered a giant among men, actually, they thought that themselves too, and now d’Artagnon, admittedly having been tall anyway, seriously dwarfs the other man.   
“I believe that would be the case standing next to anyone except us now,” Athos points out. Then he adds, in a softer voice, “imagine what it would be like if they were both sitting on their horses too,” Aramis snorts and quickly recovers when that draws a look from their captain, but keeps smiling broadly.   
“That would totally be a sight,” he says once he’s sure his laughter is in check.   
“Do tell me though,” he starts and, when he’s sure he’s got Aramis attention, because this is actually a serious question, “How are you planning to ride a horse? I mean, aside from mine or d’Artagnon’s? I mean, I think most horses wouldn’t be able to take you anymore.”   
“I hadn’t even thought about it. I don’t know?”  
“Should we dig the stone back up to give you a horse?” he asks very quietly, so absolutely nobody will hear. Aramis shakes his head.  
“I doubt that would be a good idea. We might be followed, considering the cardinal appears to have drawn the right conclusion,” it remains silent for a bit, neither of them knowing what to do about it.   
“Might as well share a horse then,” Athos eventually admits defeat at his lack of inspiration.   
“That will be uncomfortable on long trips,” Aramis protest half-heartedly.   
“I know. But I’m sure any horse we put under you will be very uncomfortable on short trips.”   
“That’s true. Better hope we won’t get any long trips then,” Aramis sighs. “You know, despite this being kind of awesome, I can’t say I really thought about the consequences well.”  
“Do you ever?” Athos raises his brows and looks slightly to Aramis, who looks amused.   
“Sometimes…” Athos raises his brows even higher. “Okay, I might have once or twice,” Athos turns back and smiles.   
“Ah well, it’s more than I’d have guessed,” at this Aramis scowls.


End file.
